Averill: Historical Romance (The Brocade Collection, Book 3) by Jackie Ivie Read Free Book Online Page B

to her face, but that would give her away.  
    “...great relative in this blasted sand of yours . But enough Tennisons survived to carry on the family name and traditions. The wind’s starting to whip, isn’t it?”
    The door flap cracked . Averill squinted at the sand filtering in through the canvas. The tiny grains of sand hung in the air, making prismatic colors in the lamplight. That was better than the whirlwind just outside, though.
    “You’re not frightened, are you?”
    Averill jumped slightly at his whisper, shook her head, and then lifted her eyes to him.
    “Just thought I’d ask . You know…Averill. You’re the quietest woman of my acquaintance. Most ladies nearly jaw a man’s ears off with their constant chatter. But not you. You’re so different. You already know that, though. Don’t you?”
    His voice lowered . He had one eyebrow cocked at his question, but she couldn’t seem to find any voice to answer him. It was difficult to tear her gaze away, but somehow she managed it. The grit-covered surface of her pallet was safer than the strange pull of his eyes.
    She watched the pallet shimmer for a few more moments, before looking back at him. It would never do to avoid him, and it did nothing to delay. She fought not to give away how he unsettled her, by even the flicker of an eyelash.
    “ You were talking...about your family.”  She was proud of the fact that her voice sounded as unconcerned as it did.
    “Oh . You wish to hear more? Very well. My closest relative is my uncle, Theamus, the eleventh Earl of Tennison. And no, he’d never go by the name of Tenny. He’d drop dead at the mere thought, I think.”
    “I wouldn’t have asked.”
    He raised one eyebrow. “No?”
    She gasped and lowered her eyes again . How can he guess what I want to ask?
    “ Theamus Tennison is a staid character – proud, arrogant, upright, and filled with his own importance. I’m sure you know the type.”
    “ Yes.”  He sounds exactly like all the foreigners in the marketplace .
    “He holds a seat in the House of Lords. It’s a branch of government that gives us a voice in politics and such. Otherwise, who knows what might happen? The monarch would have complete control, and royalty doesn’t concern itself much with matters of state. Perhaps you’ve noticed? No? Well, here you have Mohammad Ali. He doesn’t allow anyone much say in how he runs his country. Did you know he’s on the brink of declaring war on Syria?”
    “But —” 
    She choked back the question . Captain Tennison was taking her to Damascus, and that was in Syria.
    “I knew you’d guess it, so I’ll explain . I have my orders, and yes, we’re heading right into Syria. It shouldn’t be dangerous, even if war gets declared. We’re not in uniform. We’re not from any particular country, if you take my meaning. We can assume any nationality we like.”
    “I’m Egyptian,” she replied.
    “And since I already remarked on how little you look it, that’s a moot point. Besides, being with me is much less dangerous than living on a street in Cairo. Remember?”
    She shrugged again. It was actually much more dangerous, in an odd sort of way. Only now, it was something illicit and sinful that threatened. She had to look away. He’d guess her thoughts. She ducked her head and worked on controlling the flush that was certain to be on her face.
    The captain cleared his throat . “Well…even if it gets more dangerous, I have you with me. I can keep you safe.”
    “No one asked you to.”
    She flashed her eyes at him as she answered, and then had to narrow them. He probably thought she did it in anger, but it was to diminish the amount of him she could see.
    It wasn’t working .
    “True enough.”
    He shrugged after his reply and then turned away. Her eyes widened in surprise. His pose was maddening. She wondered if that’s how she looked to him. He gave a great sigh, making his shoulders rise and fall. She was afraid her gasp was